Oblivion
by Chongy
Summary: She has to remember me. She has to. An accident during the War makes Hermione forget Draco, and he struggles to find the ways to help her forget who he was and remember them. Dramione. During and post-War, slightly AU.
1. Prologue: Remember Me

A/N: Hi again friends! I'm so sorry I've been totally out of the loop for zonks bUT I'M BACK, if only temporarily before I submerge once more for exams. These are my final school exams forever, but once I'm finished I'll be back on the road and writing this bad boy! Unfortunately, this isn't very long as it's just the prologue, but I thought I'd give a little taster of what's lined up for this story! Also, I'm planning on having song recommendations at the start of each chapter because I love music and I actually came up with a playlist that I thought was suitable, both musically and lyrically! :D Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Please review and/or follow, let me know your thoughts on this new story!

Chongy :)

Disclaimer:The lovely J.K. Rowling owns all of these characters, not me. Damn it.

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**Prologue: Remember Me**

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The clipping of his shiny leather shoes, hard and cold against the linoleum floor, announced his arrival. Neon brights glinted off smooth, blond hair, and mercurial gray eyes watched her warily from their perch above a straight nose and a small frown that creased his golden brows.

She watched him watch her, intrigued as he opened his mouth to speak haltingly:

"Do you... do you..."

His face was pinched as he ran a hand through his hair, watching her with anxious eyes as he struggled to grasp the right words to say. His breath tickled her cheek as he leaned over her, his fingers tenderly tucking away a loose curl.

"Do you remember us?"

She looked at him. Really saw him. His mussed blond hair, pale skin that was flushed with anxiety, gray-blue eyes filled with concern, the pointed features, the tall skinny frame held with poise and a certain regal elegance: none of them brought back any memories, aside from the name _Draco Malfoy_ and a few words like _Mudblood_, and _filth_. She remembered that those were insults, torments directed at her. That he thought she was impure and dirty. She remembered that he hated her, and with that thought she recoiled as she felt a wave of hurt and sadness.

A Them? An Us?

She shook her head: no.

Something inside him snapped; she could see it from the instant slump of his shoulders, the knitting of his eyebrows, the sharp intake of breath. Hermione met his eyes: they were so full of anguish and agony that she was taken aback. The eye contact lasted a half a heartbeat before the young man bolted from the room, leaving Hermione lonely in the hospital bed, touching the ghost of warmth left by his trailing fingertips.

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_She has to remember me. She has to._

He paced agitatedly, running his hands through his hair and glaring at the sun peeking over the horizon. The night had the power to shroud harsh truths in shadows and darkness, and Draco could pretend, for at least a while, that reality wasn't really happening. But with the obnoxious sun came the daunting light, and the pain of what was happening hit him.

_She doesn't know who I am, who we were._

The pain of the realisation hit him with all the force of a charging Hippogriff, and the mug on the kitchenette shattered. Draco regarded it with half a second of shock before returning to his preoccupied and anger-fuelled pacing: uncontrolled bursts of magic like that hadn't happened since he was a young boy. Finally, as the sun reached the top of the horizon, he sat, shaking. A lump was in his throat and his eyes were burning as he struggled to contain his emotions, bottling them up to deal with later. Actually, if he were honest with himself, he never dealt with his emotions; he let them fester and infect his mind. She was the one who helped him express himself, she was the only one who could: she was his saviour. And now...

He stared at the photograph atop the coffee table in front of him. Though the plain wooden frame was nothing expensive or ornate, it added to the charm of the beautiful scene the photo captured, made more sentimental because Granger had taken it with something called a 'vintage polaroid camera'; she had a penchant for photography and capturing the essence of what was beautiful in her world. The photo had been taken by one of Granger's parents, and it showed the two of them basking in the sun outside Florian Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour, with ice-creams in hand and a dab of chocolate on Draco's nose, so dark in comparison to his skin. But the main object in the photo that took his breath away was her. She was laughing, her face frozen forever in an expression of utter joy and contentment, her gaze slightly shy from beneath her lashes as she gazed at him. Her honey coloured eyes were filled with love, and she seemed to glow with happiness from every pore of her body, from her sun-kissed cheeks to her sandalled feet. His expression showed nothing but tender adoration, which was a rare moment, even in Granger's presence. He never let that kind of emotion show; not because he thought it a weakness, but because he'd never known how. No-one had shown him how: he'd never seen his father cry, or his mother happy. He only knew anger and hatred. Granger had shown him the way. He was lost in a world without her, trapped inside a sea of memories she didn't remember partaking in.

But there she was, and here was he. So close, yet never so far apart.


	2. Chapter 1: The Seed

A/N: Hi guys! So here's the first chapter! I've actually had this ready for ages, but I've been so busy with my birthday, and also the National Big Sing Finale competition, which my choir won platinum for the fifth time in six years (super stoked about that, seeing as it's my last year and all)! All in all, it's been a busy couple of weeks, but don't worry there's heaps more where this came from! (Like, seriously heaps. I have at least a quarter of the whole story written already). Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to review, follow and/or favourite, reviews are always appreciated!

Love,

Chongy :)

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**Chapter 1: The Seed**

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He sat in his room, reading. It was all he ever did now. Now that the Dark Lord was back, Draco hardly ever saw his father, as he was probably preparing the house lest his master arrive for a visit. Draco had seen through the deception immediately, knowing that Voldemort only did the 'visits' to keep tabs on his followers, and ensure they were worshiping him endlessly by always being submissive and at his beck and call.

Narcissa entered, quietly closing the door behind her. "A letter arrived for you, Draco darling." She said, a small smile on her lips as she placed the envelope on his open book. He picked it up, scrutinising the green lettering. "It's from Hogwarts, dear."

She was buzzing with barely contained excitement, and Draco watched her questioningly as he turned the envelope over in his fingers and opened it. He slid the letter out, and as he did so a hard shiny something fell onto the floor. His eyes glued to the words on the parchment, he picked up the something with trembling fingers.

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_Dear Mr Draco Malfoy,_

_On behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we would hereby like to congratulate and invite you to accept your position as a prefect of Slytherin House. Enclosed is a Prefect badge, with your name and House inscribed on the back._

_Congratulations again._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Chief Wizengamot, First Class_

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Elation filled Draco, making his head spin and his tongue feel thick in his mouth.

"Well?" Said Narcissa, beaming at her son.

"I… They made me… I'm a… a prefect?"

"Oh! Congratulations, Draco darling!" She cried, gathering him in a motherly embrace. "I love you so much! I don't think I tell you enough just how proud I am of you." Narcissa pulled away from him, studying his face with a tender expression. "You're going to grow up to be a good man. I know it."

It was the last time he'd seen her since her capture.

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"And that leaves you two, so that means you and Hermione will be patrolling together, okay? I don't want any complaints from any of you, capiche?" The glare was aimed at the knot of Slytherin prefects. "We need to promote inter-House unity, people, what with You-Know-Who back and all. It's important for morale and just in general for the rest of the students here. But, I digress. Welcome back, and congratulations again for gaining your new positions as prefects. Alright, meeting's over, folks. You can go back to your common rooms and get some rest after that long train ride. 'Night!"

Draco stared at the Heads' retreating backs in unadulterated horror. Him? Patrol with her? The filthy _Mudblood_? They had to be joking. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. He was probably doing patrols with Macmillan or some other bumbling idiot. Not Granger. Not the Know-It-All. But, as he watched everyone walk away, some already chatting animatedly with their assigned pair, Draco felt a sinking feeling somewhere in his stomach and a headache looming in the back of his head. It was real. _Fuck_. He stormed out of the Great Hall, making sure to roughly shove past Granger with unnecessary force.

"See you 'round, Mudblood." He spat, a sneer on his face. "And you, Weaselbee."

When he got back to his room, Draco sat down unceremoniously on his bed, sighing loudly and massaging the bridge of his nose as his headache worsened, wondering distantly just exactly how he would survive a whole year with the Know-It-All. He could barely stand the people in his own House, and they were supposed to be his friends. How on earth would he cope with the Mudblood?!

Sighing quietly, he changed out of his black suit, opting for a casual button down shirt with some loose pants, casting a disillusionment charm as he did so, lest his House mates see him. A long walk by himself would see him right. It was his outlet: instead of punching walls, which hurt, he had found that going for long walks or runs in the huge Manor grounds were the perfect way to release all his anxiety, anger and fear. And the exercise had helped with his chronic headaches. Tucking his wand into his pocket and slipping into a pair of comfortable shoes, Draco set off, blending into the background of his Common Room and sliding out through the door. As soon as he escaped the double oak doors of the Castle, he felt the air lighten, felt some of the pressure released from his shoulders.

Dropping his façade and feeling more at peace with himself than he had for a while, Draco made his way to the Lake. The mask of hate and indifference that he always wore slipped away, and he visibly relaxed despite the crisp air. Stepping out of the shadow of the Castle, he watched the stars in the clear night sky, wondering if his mother was one of them.

Back in the Great Hall, Hermione watched Draco leave with a roll of her eyes and a muttered "_idiot_" as Ron shook his fist and checked that she was okay.

"Yes, yes Ronald I'm fine, honestly!" She assured him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear distractedly as she gathered her books together. "He's just an insufferable git."

"I'll swap with you, I'll ask Oliver-"

"Really, Ron, I'll cope. I'm stronger than you think. I can handle that toe-rag."

Ron shot a disparaging look at Hermione before turning to watch the last flash of blonde disappear around the corner. "I hope so, Hermione."

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Hermione sat next to Neville in Potions, her already bushy hair even curlier and frizzier from all the magical steams mingling in the air from the class's cauldrons, biting her lip in concentration as she carefully poured two pod's worth of juice into her own cauldron. It was the final step in her potion, she just needed to stir it once, twice… two more times and it'll be perfect! The deep honey-gold colour was slowly fading to a silver with a faint tinge of blue; she could see it collecting around the edges. It was nearly perfect, and the silver reminded her of something she couldn't quite place her finger on.

Suddenly a Devil's Snare root came flying out of nowhere, landing in her cauldron and turning the delicate colour instantly black and lumpy, splashing the hot liquid everywhere. She let out a gasp as the contents of her cauldron suddenly became extremely volatile, shooting out of the top and sloshing around the classroom. Scowling, and trying not to cry from the scalding goop coating her face and hands, she looked around and locked eyes with Draco Malfoy. His upper lip curled cruelly as he winked at her, smug smirk on his face.

"Miss Granger: five points from Gryffindor for the mess you made." Said Snape, standing at his desk with his arms folded in front of him. "Class dismissed."

As the rest of the class filed out of the dungeons, mumbling about Snape's unfairness, Draco walked over to Hermione, who was trying to scrub the black lumps out of her hair whilst avoiding the burns on her hands.

"See ya at patrol, Mudblood." He whispered, sneering as he loomed over her. Hermione tried to repress a shiver as he walked away, dreading the night to come.

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She was running late. _Again_. Hermione hurried down the stairs to the Entrance Hall, tucking her wand into her pocket and poking her hair back into her tangled ponytail. She had decided that after that morning's debacle she was going to ignore him, or at the very least try not to react to today's snipes. She glanced around the Hall, hoping that he would be late too, but-

"Granger. You're late. Again." She spied him leaning against the huge oak doors, smirking. "I suppose it's not unusual for someone like you-" He sneered. "A filthy Mudblood."

Hermione shot him a glare. Then she rolled her eyes. "Really, Malfoy - you might want to come up with new insults," she said, yawning for effect. "These ones are getting old."

His eyes hardened. "Be careful what you wish for, Mudblood."

"Shove off, Malfoy. Just because you're feeling inadequate because I'm disinclined to react to your _ridiculously_ immature insults. Let's just get this over with."

They set off, walking on either end of the staircase, not looking at each other. Hermione was annoyed: how dare he insult her like that, what had she ever done to him? Where did he get off, thinking he was all high and mighty because he was a stinking Pureblood?

Draco, on the other hand, was contemplating. The more he thought about it, the more he came to realise that Mudblood was really the only decent insult he had. There wasn't anything else he could insult her on; he was second only to her on every test in every class, and her wand work was only a fraction better than his. She was even better than him at Potions, his best subject. He couldn't even comment on her abysmal performance in the sports arena, seeing as she didn't play sports. Inadequate indeed. Granger had been quite correct in her analysis, and it angered him immensely. If anything, she had more ammunition on _him_. He was always second to her, he was even always second to bloody Potter as well in fucking Quidditch. A small growl of frustration bubbled up in his throat.

Always second. Second place is the first loser.

Loser.

_Failure._

"Fuck off!" The words flew from his lips before he realised what was happening.

Hermione just stared at him, taken aback. Heat stirred an angry flush in her cheeks. "I- what?!"

They weren't necessarily meant for her, but after her reaction he took it and went with it. "Just don't speak! Leave me the fuck alone you stupid Mudblood bint!"

She glared at him, her eyes sparking with annoyance. "I never said anything, Malfoy. Keep a lid on it."

"Just shut up!"

They walked in seething silence for the rest of the patrol.


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